Chapter 288 |
The key was grasping the conditions for using mana as a power source to interfere with time and space.
Even if he couldn't fully decipher those conditions, simply identifying the patterns and gathering data would have opened up a tremendous number of possibilities.
The principles that established time and space. The environmental setup and prerequisites needed to interfere with them using mana.
This entire process was exactly what Renok had accomplished every time he created a unique creation magic.
The hope that had lingered as a mere vague possibility solidified in his mind once more.
Just thinking about it sharpened Renok's gaze and straightened his posture.
Even as the aftereffects of doping left him wheezing, he couldn't stop his research.
His focus, sharpened without force, never wavered for a moment.
He felt an exhilarating surge, as if he could deploy his innate domain once more right then and there.
It sparkled with the same joy as risking his life in battle against a formidable foe—the thrill of exploring the world's truths.
In those moments, he sometimes thought that waking up in this world wasn't so bad after all.
The Ilwon family estate glowed brightly through the night, never once going dark.
*
"You insolent brat."
Oren stroked his beard and spoke in a haughty tone.
"After turning the citadel upside down, you thought you could leave without even showing your face to me?"
"Scolding me in that state wouldn't hit home anyway."
With his pallid complexion and barely risen from his sickbed, any anger he mustered wouldn't have felt genuine.
No, it probably wasn't genuine to begin with.
Oren knew full well that expecting more help from Renok now would be greed.
The position Renok nominally held wasn't just an outside director in the Cartel.
With that in mind, Oren sank back into his chair as if nothing had happened, letting out a low chuckle.
"Well, I suppose so. What words are needed for a man who dangled a deal even while bearing the proxy's status?"
"......"
"Come to think of it, the other family heads asked me to discuss granting you the title of external honorary head."
Renok responded awkwardly to Oren's remark, as if something had just occurred to him.
"I won't become the family head they want."
"It's just a title in name. In truth, it's a position handed out to important guests of the citadel. With the proxy status gone, you'll need a plausible title to keep coming and going from the citadel."
True enough. He already wore a string of nominal titles; adding one more wouldn't cause any issues.
Renok casually brushed his shoulder near the coat and extended his hand forward.
"This?"
In his grasp hung a thin cloak woven from shadow feathers.
The armor Asui had snatched from Oren during the final battle and passed to Renok.
But Oren shook his head calmly at the sight.
"As a family head, I can't take back a gift once given. Taking back what you've bestowed is the worst breach of etiquette, isn't it?"
"......"
"Well, even without that, the family warehouse has similar artifacts. If adding one as recompense for this matter isn't unwelcome, then so be it."
"Fine... if that's what you say."
Renok accepted the shadow feather cloak without protest.
Oren handed it over nonchalantly, but by Renok's standards, this was a remarkably versatile item.
Under the condition of some understanding of shadow series incantations, it allowed adjustments to appearance, insulation, and ventilation.
For apparel artifacts, its durability wasn't exceptional, but its convenience was top-notch.
Replicating the form of the coat Renok currently wore was possible, so it fit the unique perks allowed to shadow sorcerers without issue.
"So, any harvest from the relic site?"
Oren leaned forward with a languid expression and asked.
"You spent time recuperating in the estate even after the matter ended, so there must be a reason you're only now seeking me out."
Like most exceptional sorcerers, Oren knew Renok was an outstanding scholar and researcher, no less than other mages.
For someone like Renok with free access to study a rare site like the relic site, he wouldn't leave the citadel easily without some substantial yield.
Oren would have thought the same if he were in Renok's shoes.
Catching on to that line of thought, Renok smiled faintly.
"Even glimpsing a cross-section of the world is a great boon for any sorcerer. I achieved more than expected. All that's left is sorting the data back home."
"A cross-section?"
Renok briefly explained to Oren about the rift hidden in the relic site and the cross-section of the world.
He couldn't reveal everything due to the Gido Cult's involvement, but to utilize the relic site again later, he'd need to provide some rationale.
However, after hearing Renok's explanation, Oren shook his head with a peculiar expression.
"...Back when the previous citadel lord was alive, we family heads, myself included, entered and exited the relic site countless times but sensed nothing. It seems it's not something anyone can do."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. The citadel lord was quite proactive in researching the phenomena and secrets of the relic site. He believed understanding it would allow equal footing in negotiations with the city council's old fogeys."
"......"
"Before the Ibon family head refused to share the relic site and secluded himself, access was free, but that's all in the past now."
Oren's gaze drifted silently behind Renok, his face distant.
"A rift in the world... That's too far removed for an old man like me."
What he gazed at wasn't just the scenery before him, but the future awaiting the hexafold citadel.
The authority of the triad rulers had collapsed. Challengers rose from below, and the city council's intervention loomed over the relic site's existence.
The burdens he would shoulder ahead were far from few.
Yet, knowing that full well, Oren had accepted the citadel lord's position out of unwillingness to abandon the citadel's residents—a choice of his own will.
"But ignorance is just as reckless in the face of the coming future. I understand the significance."
Oren nodded slowly, his expression resolute as he met Renok's eyes.
"Focusing on that fact, I'll look into the relic site myself. It seems like something only a sorcerer of your caliber could achieve, but..."
"The existence of the three relic sites within the citadel is likely no coincidence."
Renok replied.
"The Gido Cult endured such distances to come here and take note of this rare sanctuary. Having three such places clustered in one district is profoundly anomalous. It's highly probable they stem from deliberate experiments or the aftermath of a specific incantation."
"...Meaning?"
"The Black Consumer Project. Gathering intel on its secrets might reveal something."
The forbidden sorcery the city council's elders had chosen, pooling the megacity's full might.
Shrouded in rumors, its inner workings had remained hidden—one of the megacity's gravest secrets.
Oliviera Ron Meiz, the Cartel's leader, seemed to know something about the project.
If the Cartel held its origins and the hexafold citadel its aftermath, who knew the process in between?
Perhaps the term "triad rulers" itself had been, from the start...
Renok stopped there. Pushing further would just be baseless speculation.
But Oren, too, seemed to glean something from Renok's words, nodding slowly.
"Yes... In this era of change, even ancient taboos have no reason to linger as rules. You're not wrong."
He looked down at Renok and continued.
"For the negotiations with the approaching city council, I'll gather what information I can on that project."
*
A space filled with pale white radiance.
The innermost sanctum of the pristine white temple, where not a speck of dust was tolerated.
Between the massive rift at the temple's rear floated a house-sized azure crystal in the air.
Before it knelt hundreds of priests in reverent poses, offering prayers.
One of them, hands clasped in prayer, spoke up.
"The 128th apostle candidate, Walter Martinez, has returned to the Lord's side."
"A regrettable loss."
"His last confirmed location was the megacity Balkan in the southwestern plains of the continent... Specific details are hard to obtain due to the defensive lines around the city outskirts, but we confirmed a drastic expansion in authority granted to bishop-level believers."
"......"
As soon as the words ended, the hundreds of priests who had been praying alongside lifted their heads in unison to stare at him.
Their gazes were chillingly mechanical.
Yet, undeterred by the inscrutable attention, the priest quietly continued.
"It appears he succeeded in apostle descent with extremely high probability."
"To achieve that much in a demonic hellhole like that city... What a waste of talent."
A man who had been pacing with hands behind his back sighed from behind the priest.
With thick glasses and a refined appearance, he exuded a neurotic air more akin to a scholar or researcher than a Cult priest.
"I thought it when he worked with that black mage seeking the World-End Tree's power, but that city is full of strange people."
The man idly recalled Craig Tillian, the black mage to whom he had lent his aid.
The end of the outer sea. Among them, Craig's idea of programming Acrotrinia's preservation data to recreate its form within an artificial domain had left a deep impression on him.
He had lent his power because he admired the arrogance of interpreting the Lord's doctrine in such a wildly different way, but it had ended in tragedy due to a freelancer named Ban.
He never imagined the one who thwarted this apostle descent was the same mage from back then.
"Well, anyway, with a vacancy in the apostle candidate slot, we need to select a new proselytizer."
At the man's casual remark, the faces of the priests praying in the temple paled.
Ignoring the chill in the air, the man scanned the room with a smile.
"With so many brothers gathered here, why not select a proselytizer right on the spot?"
"If I may be so bold..."
One of the priests, sweating profusely, barely squeezed out his voice.
"This southwestern branch of the Cult was established not only for Balkan but to observe and manage the autonomous region and volcanic zone as well."
"Go on."
As the man adjusted his glasses, the priest's face turned ashen, but the die was cast.
Gritting his teeth, the priest desperately racked his brain to persuade him.
The other priests kneeling around the azure crystal watched him with desperate eyes.
"Moreover, we've recently been assigned the task of monitoring the mechanical city Machina's movements... If the temple's priests participate in the proselytization ritual, the branch's operations could grind to a complete halt..."
There was no hesitation in serving the gods of the outer sea. The harsh environment in which priests were raised made the term "fanatic" feel trivial.
But participating in the proselytization ritual to become a proselytizer was an entirely different matter.
"Apostle candidate" sounded appealing, but in reality, it meant losing one's body, leaving only the spirit to possess another's flesh—like a ghost.
No one welcomed the process of shedding all mortal duties and common sense.
Yet the man replied calmly to the priest's plea.
"Brothers, listen well. Priests can be recruited and replenished anytime, anywhere. Gathering the flames of faith under the clear evidence of the Lord's existence is no great feat."
"......"
"But the duty of proselytization cannot afford even a momentary gap. I hope everyone understands what I mean."
With those words, a faint glow rose from the man's hand and fell onto the temple's white marble floor.
"N-No, please...!!"
"Spare us, we don't want to die!!"
"Aaahhh!!"
Hundreds of priests screamed and wept, but the man ignored them completely and turned away.
As he exited the temple, white-robed warriors appeared behind him and sealed the doors.
The proselytizer selection rite was a process that ground down hundreds of lives and bodies to leave but one will intact.
The manpower consumed in that process was of no concern.
What mattered was selecting a proselytizer as outstanding as Walter Martinez to ensure the possible future apostle rite's success.
"Haaaaah!!"
The final agonized cries from within faded slowly, and the blood scent spilling endlessly outward cut off abruptly.
Gazing into the temple where not even a breath remained, he flung the doors open and murmured.
"But who knows. Perhaps that's exactly what Alkaid desired..."
"......"
Hundreds of crimson handprints marred the door's opposite side. Not a single fallen priest had nails left.
A gruesome sight that made even the guarding warriors flinch.
"We can only do our utmost to witness the world's end to the last."
The man grinned as he spoke.
A mound of flesh unrecognizable as human.
From the blood pool, a single twisted spirit body bloomed into a splendid flower.